


Sitting by the fire, waiting for the future

by airsalonpasandpettysquabbles



Series: Prophecies and families [1]
Category: The Books of Beginning - John Stephens
Genre: Angst, Claire and Richard are left in the dark, Kate is tired, Pym is tired, Stanislaus Pym POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airsalonpasandpettysquabbles/pseuds/airsalonpasandpettysquabbles
Summary: Stanislaus Pym could sympathize with his friends: he wasn't ready to let go either. He wasn't ready for what the prophecy had to bring. The full extent of it.He wasn't ready to bring three children to their possible doom.
Series: Prophecies and families [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570522
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Sitting by the fire, waiting for the future

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished the series and I was surprised to see that there was no trace of the fandom on AO3.  
> So, here I am.

Stanislaus Pym was sitting at his desk, the only sound reaching his thoughts being the fire crackling nearby.

A young lady had just appeared in his office with the book in her hands. _His_ book. His wretched book.

He took in her disheveled appearance: her hair sticking out of its mold, her scraped knees, her worn down nails, her shivering figure, her thumb nervously rubbing the locket around her neck- she looked as if she had saved the world, and yet she was a mere child.

"Come, sit by the fire and explain to me how you came to be in the book's possession."

Her answer was peculiar, "I already have explained, in detail, my life to you, Dr. Pym. Twice, actually. In the future, I mean."

Well, what could he say to that?

"I see. Well, best tell me a third time for good measure."

She was exhausted, he could tell, and looked as if she would drop unconscious then and there, but she pushed through her fatigue and explained her life story in under thirty minutes, rushed breaths of air cutting in here and there.

"And that's how I arrived here."

My, the children of the prophecy had been through a lot. How could he have separated such a family? A knot formed in his stomach.

Claire Wibberly had decided that it was a good time to stop by in his office. She had said something, and stopped once she had seen Kate. They looked so similar... he swallowed the bile in his throat. Claire started admonishing him for leaving a child in this state- he completely agreed: he should have never left saving the world to three children. He should have never written those _stupid_ books.

By the look on the child's face, she understood who the woman who had just entered the room was, but by the time Claire had realized that she was staring her daughter in the face, the time traveler had vanished.

Claire had stared incredulously at Pym, the latter giving her a somber stare. "I think it's time we furthered our discussion on the children of the prophecy. Or, as you have now figured out, _your_ children. Your future children, to be exact."

* * *

Some years later, on a bittersweet Christmas eve, he was leaning against a car, waiting for the inevitable. The children would depart tonight, and the parents would be taken away. The prophecy was finally being put into motion.

 _It has already started._ Yes, it had. He remembered the evening a mysterious young girl had popped into his office.

What could he do to stop it? He could do nothing but guide the children later on in life.

He was getting old. He was as old as magic itself, in a way, and he had made _so many_ mistakes in his lifetime. He had to fix them. He _would_ fix this one. He looked at a crying Claire and a sober looking Richard. He had to fix it.

The basket that contained the babies was placed in his hand and the oldest, Kate, /the one who he had seen holding the weight of the world on her shoulders/, was now sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms.

"Pym..." she hesitated, but finally placed her oldest in his arms. "Stanislaus, take care of her. Take care of all of them. They'll need somebody to guide them. They're too young..."

Surely she was picturing a defeated-looking girl with the burdens of a lifetime tearing and sewing back together the fabric of time.

"I promise that I will protect and guide them. You can count on me."

Richard spoke this time, tears in his eyes, "We trust you." He had looked at his children one last time before their family was broken up. "Go, Stanislaus. Our time is up. Go!"

And he had left, barely making it to the orphanage in time. He looked at the three children while handing them to the orphanage director. "Their names are Kate, Michael and Emma."

"What of their surname?" the woman had asked.

He thought of three lonely children growing up and saving the world. They technically were his responsibility until they would reunite with their parents.

"P," he had simply stated.

"That's it?"

No, it obviously stood for Pym. It stood for him.

"Yes, only P."

And he had left, a sad frown staining his face.

* * *

When he had gone back to the Wibberly residence, he had found a torn-apart house, a deserted home. He was left alone with the flickering street light, wondering if he had made the right decision. He had felt like he'd already failed his friends.

Would he ever see them again? Would he accomplish his mission?

He stared into the dead of the night, "If I play my cards right, hopefully the children won't die after destroying the books."

He hadn't told them. He hadn't told Claire and Richard. He didn't have the heart to.

He headed back into his car and sighed, "And now, we wait."

What was another ten years of sorrow and regret?


End file.
